


Mea Culpa

by xilluminax



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst With A Bittersweet Ending, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Final Chapter is Post-Pacifist, Flowey Redemption, Flowey has issues, Flowey needs a hug, Gen, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Panic Attacks, Pre-Canon, Psychological Projection, Self-Hatred, Survivor Guilt, Violence, complex PTSD, past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-15 00:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8035492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xilluminax/pseuds/xilluminax
Summary: Flowey likes Papyrus; he's his favorite plaything, he never gets boring, but he doesn't seem to realize the dangers of his kind-hearted nature. The world is a dangerous place after all and, if you really think about it, Flowey's just trying to help Papyrus understand that by making sure the message really sinks in.(Inspired by, but not related to, FiNaGLC)





	1. Chapter 1

Papyrus is his favorite plaything.

There’s just something so entertaining about him. No matter how many Resets take place, how many times he repeats the same events, Flowey will always find his attention pulled back to the strange skeleton. Even when all runs have been exhausted and Flowey knows every possible outcome, Papyrus will always come out with something unexpected, some strange thought or observation that would never have even entered Flowey’s mind. And of course, Papyrus has no filter, will simply spill his thoughts to anyone and everyone who will listen, and listen Flowey does with a detached interest.

Still, that doesn’t stop him from killing Papyrus once he ceases to be entertaining.

Papyrus is endlessly kind, endlessly positive and endlessly patient, but so damn naïve and trusting and just _so_ oblivious that Flowey sometimes wonders if he’s being serious. Surely, _surely_ no-one can be _that_ dense, surely it has to be a joke. There are times when Papyrus will make little comments, innocent little comments that would sound almost sarcastic and bitter coming out of anybody else’s mouth, but he’ll say it in an unchanging, upbeat tone, expression the same stupid smile as always and Flowey will wonder if he’s even aware of it himself.

Probably not, Flowey decides, he’s nothing but a kind-hearted idiot who honestly believes that every monster he meets has good intentions. As though there are monsters out there who _won’t_ take advantage of fools like him as soon as the chance arises.

It’s as frustrating as it is amusing and, boy, does Flowey just love shattering that illusion for him when he’s being particularly annoying! It’s… cathartic, _therapeutic_ almost to so clearly spell out to Papyrus that stupid beliefs like that get idiots like him killed.

_~~“And, oh boy, do you know all about that!”~~ _

Flowey hates that mindset, _despises_ it, and if you _really_ think about it, he’s only trying to help. If you _really_ think about it, he’s just trying to show Papyrus the _consequences_ of what happens when you allow yourself to become so soft, so trusting. The world is an awful, dangerous place and it’s better he learns that from a friend instead of someone else, right?

And if Flowey sometimes went a little too far and the sound of screams and splintering bones filled the air, well, no worries! Bones will heal and scars will fade, what will stick with you forever is the knowledge you have gained-

**_SO MAYBE YOU SHOULD PAY ATTENTION AND WE WON’T HAVE TO REPEAT IT, NOW WILL WE?_ **

And besides, if Flowey sometimes _really_ went too far, there was always the Resets!

He can’t leave too many marks anyway, leave too many marks and his disgusting slob of a brother will get suspicious at best. And that… that’s particularly annoying.

Just what is that smaller skeleton’s angle anyway? What is he planning when he interferes like that? He’s far too withdrawn, too secretive for Flowey’s liking. What was he planning? He has to _want_ something, why would a weak little thing like him, that could probably die from a stubbed toe, go running into danger otherwise? What did he have to gain?

Ohh, of course. With Papyrus injured, dead or otherwise incapacitated, who will pick up after him, clean up his mess, cook for him, and basically do every little thing that _he_ , as the eldest, should be doing himself? And no matter how much Papyrus may complain, may nag and make every passive-aggressive hint and comment possible, they both knew that he’d ultimately end up doing it anyway, since no-one else would. Flowey knew it too.

It’s sad really, but not too surprising; there was no such thing as an equal relationship, anyone who believed otherwise was clearly the weaker one in that relationship, foolishly strung along by the more cunning one. No two people can live together for _that_ long without one secretly hating the other and when the other is _that_ annoyingly selfless and self-sacrificing, it’s hardly surprising.

He should have realized that sooner…

He tries to tell Papyrus, tries to tell him that his kindness is being taken advantage of. He wouldn’t care so much if it wasn’t so infuriatingly frustrating to watch. All the warning signs are there, screaming at Flowey that it’s just a matter of time before it all comes to ahead and then-

And then-

And then someone will get hurt…

_~~“You can’t do anything right, can you?”~~ _

And if that was going to happen, he’d rather distance himself from it…

“Look, I know Sans is lazy and that you’re just looking out for me, but you have to believe me when I say that this is all temporary!” Papyrus smiles gently at him, a kind, patient smile that tells Flowey that, despite everything, he _is_ actually listening to him. “Sans has just been… going through a difficult period and, well… o-okay, yes, I wish he would be a little more active, but I know that he’s not _trying_ to be difficult and he’d never take advantage of me. In the meantime, if I have to take care of him, well, that’s okay, really!”

Flowey ducks down on his stem, a growl emitting from his throat, “You’re so stupid…”

“Did you say something?”

“I said you’re so stupid! Idiots like you will make any excuse, won’t you? If he told you to jump off a _cliff_ , would you do it? If he told you to _hurt_ people for him, would you do it? If he told you to do something that would get you both _killed_ , **_would you do it?_** Ha! You really are pathetic! _”_

Tirade over, Flowey glares down at the ground, simply allowing his anger to rage through his body. It’s both welcomed as a refreshing change from the dull emptiness that usually plagues him and despised for the embarrassing hindrance that it, and all emotion, is. When it burns out and he finally turns his head upwards, he finds that Papyrus is just giving him a look and Flowey balks because it’s not a face he expects to see on someone like Papyrus. His body is stiff, his jaw is clenched, his sockets are dark and his brow ridge is furrowed slightly. His face holds an expression of _very_ clear restrained annoyance, but not anger. Flowey actually suppresses a small shudder at the sight of it, because it’s so familiar, it almost reminds him of when Mom would-

“Flowey, that’s enough. Now listen, we may be friends, but we have not known each other that long and, no offence, but you don’t really know enough about us to be able to condemn my brother like that, there is a lot that we have been through that is between us. So, I’m not trying to be rude, but can we please drop the subject?”

For a moment, Flowey is actually stunned into silence. There is a firmness to Papyrus’ voice that he’s never heard before, not on any run, and it just seems so out of place coming from him. All of a sudden everything is spinning and something is churning inside of Flowey, a toxic bile that engulfs every fiber of his being, consumes him until it reaches boiling point. And then, well, it all goes downhill.

An enraged wail pierces the air and all of a sudden Flowey is screaming, hot, angry tears streaming from his eyes, reducing everything before him to a wavy blur. He screams and screams until his throat is raw and the bile is spilling out in the form of poisonous words and half-garbled curses, and even then, he doesn’t stop.

_~~“You always were a pathetic crybaby, weren’t you?”~~ _

_~~“Look at yourself, even when you try, you fail!”~~ _

**“I hate you! I hate you! You ungrateful moron, I was trying to _help_ you! Well, you know what? I hope you _do_ get yourself killed! When you scream for help, I hope _nobody_ comes!”**

His head is spinning, pounding. The tears in his eyes have obscured his vision to the point where Papyrus almost doesn't look like himself anymore, he could be anyone really. Everything feels... _floaty, unreal..._ Flowey almost feels like he's somewhere else, if he squinted his eyes enough, he could almost imagine he was-

**"I... I _hate_ you! I h-hate you..! I... I..."**

His voice finally gives out and Flowey curls in on his stem, sniffling and suppressing hiccupping sobs. The wind has picked up, threatening to pull off his petals one by one, its roaring the only other sound in the area, everything else is silent. Papyrus is frozen a few steps from him, body tensed and pulled back like he expects Flowey to snap at him. His eyelights dart around, almost like he’s searching for someone to help him.

Seeming to reach a decision, Papyrus unfurls from his position and takes a slow, hesitant step towards the trembling flower. Flowey’s lack of response seems to encourage him and he closes the gap between them, crouching down so that he at least doesn’t tower over Flowey so much.

“Flowey..?” The little flower shudders, but refuses to look up, opting to simply wallow in his own self-pity like the worthless creature he was instead. Somehow, it’s more preferable anyway.

But then he feels a hand placed on his stem with such gentle care, as though afraid that he might break under its pressure, and suddenly everything turns red and starts spinning again.

 **“Don’t touch me!”** he bellows, recoiling from the touch in horror and ignoring how scratchy and painful each word sounds, **“Don’t ever touch me, I don’t need your pity!”**

Papyrus flinches back, the shock is evident on his face, but beyond that is the deep, genuine worry and concern that touches his eye sockets and Flowey… Flowey just... he doesn’t- he doesn’t understand… _Why?_ Why does the idiot care so much? There has to be some sort of ulterior motive, no-one does anything unless they have something to gain! What does he want?

_What do you want?!_

Before Papyrus can open his mouth to spout out the usual spiel people half-heartedly listed off in these situations, _“It’s okay”, “I’m here for you”, “Everything will be okay”,_ Flowey throws out a vine, hitting him square in the chest and sending him flying back until his spine collides with the nearest tree.

_He doesn’t understand…_

_~~“Are you gonna cry for Mommy and Daddy too?”~~ _

Flowey ducks underground before Papyrus has time to collect himself, where he hides until his anger seeps away, leaving only the lingering bitterness, hatred and loathing behind. ~~~~

He has to Reset after that little episode, he got too invested, he couldn’t possibly continue now that Papyrus had seen that, that wasn’t how the game was supposed to be played.

For the next run, he decides he needs to blow off some steam.

He knows exactly how.

A vine wraps around Papyrus’ neck and slowly begins to apply pressure. Flowey revels in the way Papyrus’ sockets widen and he chokes out a gasp, hands flying up to tug uselessly at the vine. A flurry of emotion flashes through the empty sockets; hurt, betrayal, shock and confusion, Flowey can recognize each and every one and they only make his grip tighten.

He doesn’t miss any of them, there are advantages to being empty after all.

“This is all your fault, you know...”

He makes sure to gleefully tell Papyrus in vivid detail how easy it was to break every bone in his trash brother’s body, twisting and bending them until they snapped like fragile little twigs, but careful to never allow that measly single HP drop too low until he was done.

“You should have heard him scream! I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much emotion from him! Boy, if only I'd known earlier that that was all it would take to snap him out of his boring apathy, the game’s so much more fun that way!”

He pours all of his pent-up anger into Papyrus until his bones creak and bend under the pressure.

_~~“It’s all your fault.”~~ _

He leans in closer, so that he’s inches from Papyrus’ face, and his voice drops to little more than a hissed whisper, “And when I told him I would do the same to you, well, _friend_ , you should have heard him! He cried, you know, he actually cried for you after he ran out of his hilarious little threats! Now that was certainly interesting, I’ve _never_ seen him do that before, have you? Oh, and don’t forget; this is all your fault, you brought it on yourself! It’s your fault for being so weak, _this_ is what happens to kind-hearted idiots like you!”

Papyrus screams as his body explodes into dust and Flowey’s stress trickles away with it, falling through his vines into the clear snow below.

_~~“It’s all your fault.”~~ _

Well, time to Reset again…


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Flowey's insecurities get steadily worse and Papyrus is rapidly reaching his limits...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... I didn't really expect to continue with this fic, it was meant to be a standalone, but I started getting more ideas and had some suggested to me and now the fic will have three chapters that will make up a little character arc.
> 
> Tags have been updated, please note the psychological abuse and manipulation ones.

He doesn’t like to sleep if he can help it.

When he closes his eyes, it all comes crashing back to him, exactly the same, only in painstakingly slow-motion; the sun in his fur, the grass under his feet…, the feeling of control slipping away from him as he was manoeuvred forward, _allowing_ himself to be manoeuvred forward, the control was split, why didn’t you… _why didn’t you-?!_

He invariably awakens in a blind panic, either screaming and babbling nonsense that could so easily condemn him, or simply staring ahead, silent and unseeing, but _always_ with the phantom taste of his own dust in his mouth.

And for a moment, he actually _feels_ again, feels the paralyzing raw fear, the panic and the agonizing overwhelming sense of loss, of grief that drags him under, smothering him until it’s hard to breathe-

-And then, just as suddenly as it arises, it’s gone and he’s left with nothing but the bitter emptiness inside of him.

He hates it.

Flowey sometimes idly wonders if he is insane. What was that saying again? – “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results”? Well if that were true then Flowey was most certainly, irrefutably insane…

But if he was, then Papyrus must be too.

“Come near me again and I’ll rip your arm from its socket!” he snaps in the direction of the skeleton. Papyrus halts in his approach, one gloved hand reaching up to cradle the other as he begins unconsciously rubbing his thumb over his radius, tracing over the fresh crack running along the length of it that splinters off into little intricate spider cracks. Flowey can sense his fear, his apprehension, though he tries his best to mask it, and revels in the immense satisfaction running through him at the sight of it.

Well, he shouldn’t have been so damn annoying then!

 _“Good!”_ he thinks huffily, glaring down at the snow-covered ground, _“Just leave me alone, I don’t want you here, I don’t want **anyone** here…!”_

The crunching of snow under boots reaches his ears (or equivalent) and when he finally lifts his head, for a fleeting moment Flowey feels a small pang of… _something_ when he’s greeted with the sight of Papyrus slowly edging closer and then dropping down to sit cross-legged before him.

Flowey notes, with mild amusement, that he has put a fair amount of distance between them.  

“I’ll just hurt you again, you know. You think just because we’re friends I won’t do it? Well, guess what? I’ve done it before and I didn’t feel a thing! I could snap your arm in two right now and you think I’d care?! I _don’t_ , so why do you-?!” Despite the threat, there’s no real malice or venom behind his words, if anything, they come out flat and matter-of-factual, and right now he just can’t summon the will to care enough to correct this. Instead he simply lets the words die on his tongue, the unfinished question to hang in the air.

Papyrus just sits, watching, eye sockets guarded but the trace of wary uncertainty doesn't escape Flowey's notice. His arms are tensed and the hands folded in his lap are tapping against each other in a repetitive and slightly frantic rhythm. He says nothing. Flowey doesn’t really expect him to say anything, so he lets the silence drone on, fully prepared to wait until Papyrus got bored and left since he never could seem to keep still for too long anyway.

Runs like this are no fun…

“Why do I what?” Papyrus asks eventually, voice far more subdued than Flowey had heard in a while. His eyes have not left Flowey, empty and unblinking, they bore into his core.

Flowey rolls his own eyes, “Why don’t you do what a _smart_ person would do and go away?”

Papyrus frowns at that and Flowey swears he sees something unidentifiable flash through those sockets for a split second before Papyrus slowly blinks and a small, meek smile pulls at the corners of his mouth.

“Don’t you dare give me that _crap_ about “believing in me” or whatever the hell it is!” Flowey spits before the skeleton can even open his mouth and even now a part of him flutters in childish, rebellious glee at his use of words that Mom would never want to hear him say-

He suppresses that train of thought immediately, it’s too dangerous to venture down there.

“Ripping my arm from its socket wouldn’t really do much, you know. Skeleton monsters can detach their limbs, therefore, I don’t believe that you actually want to hurt me, or… not now at least…” Papyrus states, mercifully breaking Flowey from his ruminations, voice filled with such absolute conviction that Flowey is at a complete loss on how to respond. He… really had not been expecting that.

Eventually, he settles on a feeble “Well, how the hell was _I_ supposed to know that?!”

Papyrus frowns, blinks slowly, “You didn’t?”

“No, why would I?! God! You’re such a weirdo!”

“Oh.” Flowey cocks his head at the sound of genuine confusion in Papyrus’ voice, like he expects Flowey _should_ know this despite the fact that he and his brother are literally the _only_ members of the skeleton race left and Flowey’s pretty sure he’s never seen one before them, even back before everything went bad.

“But… do you really want me to go?”

Flowey scoffs, “Yeah, sure, just abandon me here then, I don’t care.”

“Look, Flowey, I-“

“I said I don’t care, go away.”

“But, you obviously care a lot!”

“People like you are the worst, you know,” Flowey declares without warning, “You act like you care _so_ much about everyone, but what good did _you_ ever do for any of them?! You’re nothing but a liar, just like them!”

“What?“

“Yep! Just a no good liar! Guess we match now, huh?”

“Flowey-“

"All take and no give, my, my, how selfish of you, Papyrus!" Flowey tuts, shaking his head in the best imitation of his mother that he can manage.

"Why are you acting like this?"

“Wait a minute, wait a minute! …Oh, that’s it really, isn’t it?” Flowey gasps and twists on his stem, contorting his little body and allowing his face to take a more sinister appearance, “I finally figured it out! Boy, you’re good. You know, the very first time I met you, I just had you pegged as a naïve idiot, but now I get it! ‘Cause that whole “kindness” thing, that’s just an act, isn’t it? Just a way to manipulate them into liking you, ‘cause that’s what you really want, isn’t it? Ha! I was so confused as to how _anyone_ could believe in a mindset like yours, but it turns out that even you don’t really! You’re just as awful and selfish as the rest of us!” He breathes a small satisfied sigh, straightening out of his twisted position, “Oh, but don’t get me wrong, you’re _still_ a naïve idiot, just in a different way now.”

“I do still believe it!”

“Liar!”

“It’s true!” Papyrus snaps back, hands clenched in his lap, “And I am _not_ an idiot for believing that people are inherently good!”

“Ha! So, what, you still don’t believe that I’m a bad person? Even after I did _that?”_ he jabs a vine at Papyrus’ cracked radius and the skeleton flinches, pulling the arm back and cradling it against his chest.

“I-I believe that you have done bad things, yes, but that doesn’t mean you can’t change!”

Flowey barks a laugh, “”Change”?! Why would I want to change? Why would I want to be _anything_ like how I was before?! I wouldn’t _insult_ them any more with that!”

“What are you-?”

“Just shut up, you’re boring me! I don’t wanna talk about it anymore!”

The old wound is still far too fresh and he suspects it always will be. How dare Papyrus bring that up! How dare he make him think about that! And now, now he cannot help _but_ think about that. God, he misses them, misses them so much. They are the only person he would truly give anything for… Well, that’s not completely true. A part of him, and it’s a fairly sizable part, wants nothing more than to follow them to wherever they are now, to see them and be with them again, but the larger, more cowardly part screams at him to run in the opposite direction, to keep living, existing, even if he had to manipulate space and time to make it so.

Even now, he’s too selfish to give up _everything_ for them. He can soothe his guilt sometimes by reminding himself that his continued existence in this miserable body, alone, empty, _repugnant,_ is his penance to them, his way of begging for forgiveness that he doesn’t deserve. He cannot face them whilst he is impure like this, he cannot face them until he has successfully purged every trace of his former self from his being, until he can consider himself worthy of them.

And until that day comes, he will remain here, he will spread the message he was too stupid and naïve to understand in his previous life to the people; that only the strong will survive in this world. They told him before that the two of them would become gods, but it was _they_ who was heralded as the bringer of hope to monsterkind, the angel that would save them all.

And what was a god without an apostle?

_~~Surely when he finally saw them again, they’d be happy with what he’d become, wouldn’t they? They’d see that he did all of this for them? They’d find it in their heart to forgive him, they wouldn’t hate him?~~ _

_~~“Selfish idiot…”~~ _

“D-Did you really mean that?” Papyrus asks softly, cautiously, fear underlining his tone, “That you’d never want to change?”

“Why would I say it if I didn’t mean it?” Flowey growls, too tired to bother hiding his annoyance.

“Well… if, if that’s true then… then, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but I don’t think we can be friends anymore…” Papyrus says, and he says it with such resounding sadness that Flowey’s head shoots up and he can only stare at the skeleton, uncomprehending,

Because, _what the hell?!_

“ _Excuse_ me, _what_ did you just say?”

“I… I understand that you’ve clearly had a bad time in the past and I want to help, I really do! But…" Papyrus pulls himself to his feet, brushing the snow off his clothes, "I-I can’t help you unless you are at least _willing_ to change. I’m okay with you talking with me or even getting angry and yelling at me, but,” he stares down at his radius, brow bone furrowing, “but I can’t be okay with this! How am I supposed to explain this to Sans? He’ll notice eventually, he wouldn’t understand and I wouldn’t want to upset him! I’m sorry, I can’t do it.”

And just like that, Papyrus has turned on his heel and begun to walk away and Flowey can only watch him, mouth agape.

“Oh, please!” the little flower screams at his retreating form, a smirk forming on his lips when Papyrus stops but doesn’t turn around, “Who are you kidding? Your pathetic brother won’t notice a thing, why would he? Too wrapped up in his own self-absorbed little world to notice anything you do! Who’s the one who knows where you like to go when everything’s too loud? Who’s the one who knows what your favorite color or food is? Who’s the one you vent your sad little heart out to when _he_ won’t listen, huh?! _That’s_ why I know you won’t leave, you _need_ me, it’s _me_ who doesn’t need _you!_ ”

An icy silence hangs in the air as Papyrus whips his head around and the two just glare at each other, or at least Flowey does. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen such confliction on Papyrus’ face. The skeleton's hands are clenched into tight fists at his sides, his body is tensed (though Flowey still notices the slight tremor running through his frame) and his eyelights keep darting around.

A tense few seconds pass before Papyrus’ expression softens and Flowey can see the deep, deep regret and sorrow there, as though this is the most painful thing he’s ever had to do, but also a firm resignation. And at that moment, a weight drops where Flowey’s stomach would be and he feels ice is running through his very core. A dizzying panic rages through his body at the revelation that Papyrus is _completely_ serious, he will leave him here. He will leave him all alone like the selfish creature he truly is.

“N-No, P-Papyrus, _wait!_ ”

He can’t stand the thought of being alone again, he just can’t, he can’t bear it. It’s too much, Papyrus can’t just _abandon_ him like this, he wouldn’t, he _couldn’t…!_

“I… Don’t go!” he shouts, utterly _despising_ the pleading tone in his voice.

The relief that washes through him when the skeleton does indeed stop again, peering over his shoulder at him, is something that Flowey later chooses to pretend never happened. In fact, he chooses to pretend that _none_ of it ever happened.

Papyrus takes a couple of tentative steps towards him, “You... You really want me to stay?”

“Y-Yes,” Flowey hisses, glaring down at the snow with what felt like enough burning heat to melt the damn slush. He hates this. He hates how pitiful he sounds. He hates that Papyrus has now seen how weak he truly is. He just _hates._

“Then…” Papyrus taps his knuckles together, “Then does that mean you’ll at least _try_   what I said? I really _do_ like being your friend, Flowey, I like _you_ and I truly believe that, deep down, you are a good person, even if you don’t think so yourself! I… I want to help you realize that.”

Flowey grumbles, refusing to meet his eyes, “Yeah, sure, whatever, just… just stay here, okay?”

Papyrus exhales and the tension palpable only moments before seems to leave his body with the misty vapor that rushes from his mouth. His face breaks into a wide, relieved smile and he practically sprints the rest of the way back to Flowey, closer than he had been all night.

“I’m so glad,” he sighs, sitting before him again, so much more relaxed than he’d been in a while, “I really am.”

“Whatever…” Truth be told, Flowey is relieved too, he doesn’t want to think too much about the implications of it, _definitely_ doesn’t want to think too much about why he didn’t simply reload instead.

Doesn’t matter, he’ll Reset soon, doesn’t want Papyrus to know he has a weakness.

“Hey, moron, give me your arm,” he orders without looking up.

Papyrus visibly cringes back at the command and Flowey rolls his eyes with a loud huff. Papyrus starts when a vine shoots from the ground and tangles around his injured arm, yanking it forward and earning a pained cry in response that Flowey ignores. Tapping into a magic so rarely used by him these days, Flowey concentrates and allows the vine to be illuminated by a green glow that spreads along the length of Papyrus’ arm.

“Wowie!” Papyrus gasps, watching in awe as the healing magic dance along the crack. His smile somehow stretches even wider and he carefully examines his arm; the aching pain is gone and the more prominent cracks are still slightly visible but not enough to raise suspicion. “Thank you, your healing magic is incredible! See, you are already on the path to becoming a better person!”

“Hmm,” Flowey offers only a noncommittal hum and wills his magic to die back down. As the tingling effects of the magic fade, an idea comes to his mind and he turns his head to the skeleton, mirroring his smile, “I gotta say though, Papyrus, I’m actually really glad you stood up to me like that, I didn’t think you had the guts!”

“I… _don’t_ have guts…” Papyrus cocks his head to the side and raises his brow bone in confusion.

“It- It’s just a saying, Papyrus, it means you were brave.”

“Oh!” Papyrus’ face lights up, “Nyeh heh heh, well, I wouldn’t be a skeleton if I didn’t have a little _backbone!_ ”

“Uhh, right. Anyway, I was thinking, with that kinda gall, I’m really surprised you’re not in the Royal Guard yet!” Flowey continues, pretending not to notice the slight flinch from Papyrus at the reminder, “Y’know, I’ll bet it’s just because you’re being _too_ nice to them, it’s a shame really, they don’t realize just how strong you are and that’s just not fair! Hmm…” He cocks his head and bobs on his stem, “Say, friend, you’ve been so nice and understanding with me, how about I make it up to you?”

His thoughts and ideas are reeling in excitement, one in particular making itself known; perhaps the king won’t show Flowey the human souls, but if he can get Papyrus elevated to captain, well, he might just have a chance.

And then- and then, with that kind of power, perhaps he can-

“Wha-? Oh, wowie, Flowey, that’s, umm, that's not really necessary-“

“No, no, I insist! I’ve been a pretty awful friend and, golly, I feel real bad about it! So how about I help you train? I’m a pretty strong creature so what better way to push yourself? Then they'll just _have_ to let you in!”

“Well… I’m not too sure,” Papyrus replies and Flowey tries hard not to let annoyance slip into his voice whilst also pretending he didn’t notice Papyrus unconsciously rubbing his arm again because that would just make him mad-

“Oh, but Papyrus, I just want to see you be your very best! I’ll bet you I could help you get into the Royal Guard! I just don't think it's fair that they keep ignoring your skills like that, almost like they don't think you're good enough!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Flowey can see the hurt and self-doubt creeping into Papyrus' face. He really is just too easy to read.

"I promise you’ll be safe, come on, what do you say?”

Papyrus taps his hands together, running the pros and cons through his head. Flowey waits, pushing down his frustration and keeping his face as positive as he can manage.

“Come on, gosh, it’s not like I’m asking you to _kill_ anyone!” he giggles at the way Papyrus’ expression goes dark for a minute, “What, do you not trust me, friend?”

“N-No! It’s not that! It’s just…” Papyrus meets his eyes, “Didn’t you say not ten minutes ago that just because we’re friends doesn’t mean you won’t hurt me?”

“I-“ Flowey's excitement grinds to a crashing halt and he stammers, but realizes he has no good response or excuse for that, “B-But, I was just exaggerating! What, you’ve never said anything like that with your brother? Y’know, like little joke threats? Heh heh….”

“Umm, no…? Nothing like that.”

“O-Oh. So, I guess... I guess you don’t really trust me then…” he droops on his stem, "And I just wanted to help..."

“Flowey, please stop. It’s not that I don’t trust you, I just think you have a few… anger issues that you need to work out first!”

“Anger issues, I don’t-!” Flowey's head snaps up again and he already has about a thousand retorts in his head. Only the very proud part of him will be damned if he's going to provide the opportunity to prove Papyrus right. Taking a deep breath, he instead forces himself to calm down, “Alright, alright, fine, I'll drop it!”

It really is unfortunate, Papyrus has _so_ much untapped potential that’s being held back by his unwillingness to cause any harm, however minor. Maybe if he learns the advantages of using a perhaps a _little_ more force than strictly necessary, Flowey might be able to sway him over yet.

However, it seems he will not achieve this during this particular run…

Okay. Okay, that was fine, he was planning to Reset soon anyway, doesn’t matter, he can just carry it out in the next one. No need to get angry and make another mistake, he’d learned a lot about Papyrus’ limits this time round, it hadn’t been a complete waste, it was just a learning curve.

It's really a good thing he's a rational person or else that could have turned ugly fast.

“I get it, it was just a thought is all, really, just forget I said anything.”

“You’re not angry?”

Flowey shrugs, “No, you taught me something important,” he flashes his best sickly-sweet grin at him, “Thanks for that, friend.”

Papyrus smiles and leans back in the snow, staring up at the rocky ceiling above them, "I'm glad you understand," he sighs. The atmosphere is relaxed again and Flowey sighs and turns his own head upwards.

Well, it’s not like he has to Reset _just_ yet, may as well enjoy the calm before the storm whilst he can…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, did this chapter keep taking different turns during writing! But, I think I'm pretty satisfied with how it came out.  
> (I've also learned I cannot seem to write a purely sociopathic Flowey).
> 
> Anyway, as I said earlier, I have one final chapter planned which should wrap this little character arc up nicely and all the points for it are already planned out. I wouldn't ordinarily upload a chapter without the entire fic being finished, but the final chapter shouldn't take too long and I wanted to get this one up before I return to university next week.


	3. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being one of the only creatures left Underground sure makes it harder to work out your identity problems.
> 
> Or, the story diverges from FiNaGLC to bring you a post-pacifist ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just gonna go ahead and fix those tags... There we go!

This place will always hold a special place in his heart.

Everyone else knows it as “the Ruins”, he knows it best as “Home”. He was born here, he played here, he met _them_ here-

(Them, _Chara,_ he doesn’t need to shy away from using their name anymore he reminds himself.)

Even when the great exodus into the further regions of the mountain, to New Home, occurred just months after Chara fell, he still much preferred it here. This cavern especially had been their favorite place in life, a place where, if you lifted your head, you could catch a rare glimpse of the sky outside, a place where a few feeble beams of sunlight would shine, the place they fell…

No wonder Mom had decided that _this_ should become their final resting place…

Speaking of which! Rising up on his stem, Flowey begins with the meticulous task of sifting through the flowerbed, singling out those amongst the golden flowers that had wilted or died and tearing them from the ground with his vines.

Someone has to take care of the flowers after all.

It’s a repetitive but strangely soothing task, it allows him a moment of respite to be alone with his thoughts. However, on those – admittedly far less frequent – days where his thoughts would spiral downwards and only continue to plunge deeper into the darkness, he would put all his energy into his job, shutting down those thoughts before they led him to any silly decisions.

It’s actually pretty good for that, no wonder they always enjoyed gardening with Dad so much…

“Eh, I’m still not as good at it as you were, Chara,” he tells the spot where they lay as he tosses another dead flower behind him, “but, I mean, I don’t really have hands, so I’ve got an excuse this time, hee hee!”

Sighing, he straightens up on his stem and turns his gaze towards the sunlight pouring in from the opening above. From what he can see, the sky is blue and clear today instead of the dreary gray it had been for the past week, everyone else must be enjoying it…

He mentally shakes himself, returning his attention to the flowers. These are exactly the kinds of thoughts that he didn’t want to plague himself with. He was fine, really, everything turned out for the best after all, he was… happy for them all…? He thinks he is.

Well, he can’t honestly say that. He doesn’t really feel _anything_ in particular towards them, _can’t_ really feel anything.

But… But he knows that he _should be_ feeling happy for them, he _understands_ that at least, and now he can at least _remember_ what those emotions felt like. After so long, what felt like so many years of feeling so numb, so apathetic and so disconnected he couldn’t even _remember_ what it was like to feel anything but anger, hatred and fear. It wasn’t as though it was an immediate thing either, for a long time he had chased the ghost of those feelings, remembering how he was before and searching so desperately for a way to cling to those emotions only to deal with the crushing disappointment and self-loathing that came from his repeated failures. Should he really be blamed? Oh, he could regret it all now, and regret it he did, but still he challenged anyone to go through it themselves and not end up exactly the same as him. If consequences were removed, if you knew that whatever you did ultimately wouldn’t matter, well, why should you care, especially since the most important person had been ripped from you?

It didn’t justify it and he knew they probably wouldn’t like him thinking like that, neither of them would.

Neither Chara nor Frisk…

Frisk… _Frisk_ was certainly something different, he’s not surprised that he could _feel_ Chara with them. Of course Chara couldn’t ever be completely gone and if they liked Frisk so much, well…

Well, then he should make himself more like Frisk, shouldn’t he? What else _could_ he do for them? Evidently Chara had not been impressed with the new him, evidently he’d gotten that wrong.

_And… And that’s okay._

He could just make himself over again.

Because the name they called out to him with, the name that could drag him from the pits of his own cold, unfeeling world and back into their bright, warm colorful world, it’s not _his_ , not anymore. It’s the name of a person who stopped existing long ago. He still can’t call himself by his name, he’s _not_ him…

But he’s not exactly Flowey either, not that he’s too sure _who_ Flowey is if Chara didn’t like him…

It shouldn’t matter so much anyway, it wasn’t as though he ever planned to introduce himself to anyone again. The Barrier was gone now, their plan had ultimately worked out and he’d discovered ~~he~~ _Asriel_ had been right all along, that kindness was the key to their freedom, he should be happy, right? He should be-

The grave he (and sometimes ~~his~~ mother and father when they visit, though not together, as he watches from afar) has worked so hard to upkeep, it’s… it’s _empty,_ he can’t feel them there anymore, are they still here?

He needs to let go, they’re gone either way and he is ~~reluctantly~~ still here, mourning shouldn’t take an entire ~~second~~ lifetime, should it?

“Umm, hello?! Is anybody here?!”

The speed at which Flowey’s head spins around, eyes bugging and vines jerking so violently that he sends petals from the dead flowers flying up into the air is probably damn comical to watch. Certainly the person stood near the entrance of the cavern is clenching their jaw to hold back their barely contained laughter.

“Papyrus?! Wha- What the hell?!” Flowey snaps as the petals rain down on him, “You scared the crap out of me!”

There’s a childish whine to his voice that he _really_ hopes isn’t there all the time.

“I must apologize,” Papyrus says in between stifled laughs, “My mastery of stealth can be very frightening to those unprepared, I must remember that for the future!”

Flowey grumbles to himself, pout set on his face, as he begins to clear up the scattered petals from Chara’s grave, “What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn’t you be, you know,” he jerks his head towards the mountain’s opening, “up there?”

“Frisk said I might find you here,” Papyrus replies, coming to crouch down beside him and beginning to gather up the petals himself, “I was rather surprised that you did not come to the surface with us. I kept expecting to see you at some point, but you never showed up.” He lifts one of the withered petals closer to his face, turning it over and scrutinizing it with a casual interest that Flowey expects is his attempt at “playing it cool.”

“Hmph, well, sorry to disappoint…” Flowey grumbles, wincing as soon as he hears the bitter, defensive tone to his voice. For God’s sake, _why_ did he say have to go and say that? Why could he not say anything without sounding like a whiny, petulant child?

The pace at which he collects the petals increases as he snatches them from the ground and tosses them behind him, growling in frustration when they flutter back down. Working means you don’t have to think and the faster you work, the harder it is for your bad thoughts to catch up, so Flowey moves as fast as he can, until his vines blur before his eyes. From the corner of his eye, he can see that Papyrus has moved to sit on his knees, the petals that he had already collected still in hand, and he doesn’t move to collect any more nor discard the ones he has. Flowey can feel him watching, can feel his empty sockets somehow boring into him which leaves an itching sensation on the back of his head.

He moves even faster. Papyrus doesn’t understand, he _can’t_ go to the surface, he just _can’t_. He _knows_ what goes on up there, one mistake and they’d just be driven back down here anyway. It doesn’t matter. He can’t go up there. He can’t move fast enough, those bad thoughts are racing towards him at a dizzying speed, chasing him, stalking him, waiting for the right moment to pounce and drag him back down and _he can’t do it! He can’t face that again, he can’t!_

“-ey? Flowey? Hello, can you hear me?” A jolt of electricity shoots along his vine, earning a choking gasp from the tiny flower as he is sent hurling and crashing back to the present. His vision is blurred but he can feel a slight pressure on his vines. Blinking through the static in front of his eyes, he sees that Papyrus has taken them in his hands and is squeezing them in a grip that is firm enough that he can’t ignore it, but not enough that it’s painful.

“Flowey, are you okay?” Papyrus asks in a voice that’s so full of concern, fear and sincerity that Flowey’s only response is to laugh, well, it’s more of a shaky gasping sound than a laugh, but still.

“Y-You… You really…” Flowey gulps down several breaths. His agitation has him slowly bouncing on his stem and all he can think is how in the past he would have played with his ears in this kind of situation. He snatches his vines back, curling in on himself and wishing he could make himself even smaller, “I-I’m fine, just forget you saw that, ‘kay?”

“You… had me worried there,” Papyrus says and the cautious, grown-up tone doesn’t escape Flowey’s notice, “I’m very sorry, I, um, I didn’t realize that was a sensitive subject.”

Flowey just grunts in response, shuddering and having decided that prioritizing getting his breathing back to normal before trying to offer any coherent explanation is the most logical course of action. He can see Papyrus watching off to the side, clearly itching to do something to help by the way he is fidgeting and flicking his fingers, though he refrains from interrupting and Flowey can’t help but feel grateful for that.

“I-I can’t go… t-to the surface,” he gasps once he’s sure his words won’t fail him, “I just can’t, okay?”

“Okay. That’s okay, really,” Papyrus replies, a gentle smile on his face, “There are plenty of Monsters who chose to stay down here for whatever reason, nobody blames for that decision at all.”

Flowey exhales. The intensity of his little episode has left him drained and already the tell-tale signs of an oncoming headache are making themselves clear. It’s not Papyrus’ fault, it really isn’t, and he _knows_ that, but still he can’t help the feelings of annoyance that are raging through him at the inconvenience of it all. Why was this so hard? Even before his death and resurrection, he’d never been the best at dealing with difficult emotions, often dissolving into fat, blubbering tears at the first sign of conflict, but he was never an angry or spiteful person. Honestly, he wasn’t sure which of those extremes he preferred, both seemed equally repulsive and if he had to pick between the two personalities that had belonged to him, he’d rather discard those two traits. “Hey, Papyrus?”

“Hm?”

“You like puzzles, right? I’ve got one that’s been kinda bothering me for a while…”

“Oh?” Papyrus’ face lights up and Flowey supresses a smirk at the way the skeleton practically inflates with barely concealed pride, “Nyeh, and you decided that I was naturally the best person to help! Very well, I shall do my very best to help you with your predicament!”

The smirk drops and Flowey’s hard gaze returns to the ground, “Uhh, okay, so, erm, riddle me this; say that… you have a person and they’re, like, a certain way-“

“A certain way?”

“You know, like, how they act, what they’re like, that kinda thing. So, you have a person and- and everything that made them _them_ is gone, they’ve changed their body so much that they don’t even look like themselves anymore and they don’t act anything like how they used to…”

“Right,” Papyrus says slowly with a nod of his head and a deep, thoughtful frown set on his face.

“So, are they _really_ the same person or are they someone else now? If people don’t _know_ that they used to be that person, should they even tell them, or will it just upset them? Should they even _consider_ themselves that person anymore?” Flowey’s pitch rises as does the hysterical edge to his voice. Clamping his mouth shut before he says something too stupid, he turns his attention back to the skeleton who isn’t looking at him and is rocking back and forth whilst humming. To anyone who doesn’t know him well, he would probably appear quite rude, but, of course, Flowey _does_ know better and what he knows is that he has Papyrus’ full attention right now.

“Hm, wowie, that is quite a conundrum,” Papyrus eventually says, “And I’m afraid practical and logical puzzles are more my forte, but! nonetheless, I said I would help so…” he sighs and ceases his rocking, “I suppose that the answer is both yes _and_ no? Even if the person doesn’t look like themselves anymore, they still have the same mind, the same memories, they’ve experienced the same things… Also, I guess that the fact that the person has changed shouldn’t be ignored exactly, but well, people change a lot as time goes on – and believe me, I’d have a much easier time dealing with people if they always stayed the same – sometimes the change is rather dramatic indeed! Until- until they don’t seem like the same person anymore even though their body _hasn’t_ changed and you obviously know better…”

Flowey remains silent during Papyrus’ musings, his only movement being the slow blinking of his eyes. Sure, Papyrus’ thoughts are semi-coherent and rambling, but it’s still somewhat comforting to hear someone else struggling to make sense of his situation. The goofy skeleton is exactly that; goofy, but what he isn’t is dumb, Flowey has leaned. Even without knowing the full story, Papyrus has surely put two and two together and figured out who the someone in question is, now Flowey is wondering if he’ll actually have the metaphorical guts to confront him about it.

“On the other hand,” Papyrus continues, removing one of his gloves so he can scratch at the back of the hand and Flowey can’t help but be enthralled as always by the strange circular hole that covers almost the whole of his palm (as well as wonder if that visual pun was intentional), “I think it depends on the person themselves, do they _want_ to be considered the person they were before, or would they prefer to start over? They certainly have the opportunity to do so, but that’s not to say they should pretend the person from before never existed, I don’t think that would be right. Believe me, being unsure of yourself and who you are is not an unusual thing, the situation you’re describing might be, but identity problems are frustratingly normal thing, I’ve discovered. So I suppose you should accept and acknowledge the old person whilst welcoming the new person!”

As though he is waking from a trance, Papyrus blinks, looks around himself as if checking where he is and then fixes his eyes on Flowey (or so Flowey assumes, he doesn’t exactly have eyelights like his brother), “I’m sorry, I’m not sure that’s really the answer you wanted, but I don’t think there really _is_ a correct answer,” Papyrus shrugs with a meek smile, “Like I said, I guess it’s up to the person themselves to decide who they feel they are, nobody but they can know.”

“Yeah, guess so…”

When Flowey becomes lost in thought and doesn’t say anymore, Papyrus begins tapping his now un-gloved fingers against his femur and Flowey’s pretty sure the noise he is making is a deliberate decision given that he could have used his gloved hand to mute it. It’s a sight that Flowey doesn’t see from him too often, but it leads the flower to believe Papyrus has more to say that he’s holding back and the noise is probably to gain Flowey’s attention without actually asking for it.

His hypothesis proves to be correct as when Papyrus catches Flowey looking at him, the tapping stops. Confliction crosses the skeleton’s face for a brief moment before he sighs and the question that’s on his mind spills out, “Flowey, if you don’t mind me asking, is… is that why you took our souls, because you wanted to feel like somebody else? Look, I… I’m not angry about it, I just want to understand.”

There is a nervous hesitance to his voice, like he is worried the question will make Flowey mad, which isn’t exactly a rash judgement given Flowey’s track record (not that he ever did anything to hurt Papyrus in _this_ run, besides the aforementioned soul-stealing), so his surprise when Flowey lets out a small, genuine laugh isn’t the most unfounded response.

Flowey can’t help it though because, well, he _called_ it and yet for some reason, he still feels shocked that Papyrus actually came out and straight up asked it! He also has to admit, whilst Papyrus’ guess isn’t exactly right, it’s a pretty reasonable deduction. Though this all begs the question; why was Papyrus here in their old prison with the sort of person who could easily be labelled as the psychopathic inmate no-one wanted, knowing full well the list of charges against him?

“You’re not exactly far off there, friend,” he laughs, a bitter sound that rumbles in his throat, “I definitely didn’t wanna be like _this-_ ” he jerks his head downwards at himself in disgust, “anymore. Didn’t exactly count on what I _would_ become instead though…”

“Is… that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Dunno, still trying to figure that out and, oh, boy, isn’t that just _swell?_ ”

“Hmm. If this is about you being soulless, why didn’t you just ask someone for help? Someone, well, no doubt smarter than I am, but you know I would have done what I could to help you _without_ my friends getting hurt because of it if you had asked me.”

Flowey shrinks down on his stem until his head almost touches the ground, the very weight of a million bad actions in a million different lifetimes is pressing down on him, even if only temporarily. “It’s- It’s complicated,” he offers as a weak excuse that he doesn’t feel like explaining.

“Well, then, I’d like you to explain. You _manipulated_ me, Flowey. You orchestrated this elaborate plot that could have gotten us all killed and you used _me_ to carry it all out!” Papyrus’ voice takes on a sharp edge usually reserved for when his brother is being particularly stubborn and Flowey huffs in response.

“I thought you said you weren’t angry?” he snaps, having decided that he _really_ hates when Papyrus talks like a grown-up.

“I am trying very hard not to be, but you are making it very difficult!”

“Okay! Alright, I’m sorry, okay?! I know I’ve messed up, why do you think I’m staying down here?! I just- I’m sorry, I can’t talk a-about it right now and I-I know that’s selfish and stupid, but I can just about bring myself to _think_ about it all!”

Pausing to take several deep, shuddering breaths, Flowey straightens up, deciding that he should probably look the skeleton in the eye if he was going to have the gall to spout out these excuses, “I know I’m not a good person, but- lemme finish,” he adds quickly when Papyrus opens his mouth to interrupt, “I’m not a good person… but, I- I’m _trying_ , I really am and, and there once was a time when I _wanted_ to help people, when I _was_ a good person and I really am trying to get back to that, ‘cause I mean, hey, the Barrier’s broken now, t-that’s something new… Even I don’t want things to go back anymore…”

A long heavy silence hangs in the air. If Flowey felt drained before, it was nothing compared to this, the dull throb of the headache he predicted earlier was making itself known and all he could think was how much he wanted to sleep, sleep and maybe never wake up. To sleep amongst the other golden flowers with his own remains engrained in them as they decorated the spot where his sibling’s own remains lay, that sounded pretty darn good right now…

He was tired, so tired, he shouldn’t even be here anymore…

“Do you mean that?” Papyrus asks, breaking him from his bleary thoughts, “That you’re sorry and you want to do better?”

Flowey can’t bring himself to speak, he’s not sure he trusts his words. The question shouldn’t be difficult to answer, just a simple yes or no, only it just couldn’t be as simple as that, could it? Did he _objectively_ understand that what he had done was wrong? Yes, but he _always_ had, that was nothing new, it had just been _easier_ to ignore that fact before. Does he feel regret? He’s… not sure. He feels _something_ , but it isn’t the same overwhelming, soul-crushing remorse he felt as Frisk left him behind and whilst he’s not sure he necessarily feels _regret for his actions,_ he _does_ feel sorry that the whole mess started in the first place, feels sorry that the formally sweet, sensitive prince of the Underground became this shameful, warped abomination, a disgraceful traitor to his people.

Self-pity is not the same as regret, it’s not even close, he reminds himself. How disgusting. But… but, he _isn’t_ lying when he says he wants to do better, he has no need to harm anyone and without his Resetting ability, the consequences of any ill-will would be set in stone, a permanent reminder to him. Well, maybe not considering Frisk would never let that happen, but he still didn’t want to risk it. He had made bad choices that he’d been running from for too long. Now they had finally caught up with him and he was _accepting_ the consequences, was _accepting_ that this was fair, that he deserved to stay down here alone where he couldn’t hurt anyone anymore. It may not be full-blown remorse, but it was a start, right? He was paying penance, that was the right thing to do.

Plus, he also has enough empathy and insight to know that if he spilled his guts about this to Papyrus, he’d just upset and confuse him, so now he was _choosing_ not to tell him in order to spare him any bad feelings, which was… good, right?

God, why did this have to be so hard?

“I-I really _do_ wanna do better…” he mutters, wondering if Papyrus can even hear him, “I just- I dunno…”

Papyrus hums to himself and taps his weird palm against his knee, “Oh, you’ve done bad things, no doubt, but still! admitting that you’re wrong is a big step for anyone, I certainly don’t like admitting when _I’m_ wrong, who does? But you’re taking responsibility for those mistakes and that means you’re already on the path to becoming a better person! So I guess what I’m saying is I forgive you, Flowey.”

Flowey shakes his head, “No. Don’t do that yet, I-I need to work my way up to that, but, erm, do you- do you think that, maybe, you could tell Frisk? That I’m trying, that is… They’ve been a pretty good friend to me too.”

“Of course, I’m sure they’ll be thrilled.”

“Erm, thanks. Y’know, you’re a rare kind of person, Papyrus. In fact, you kinda remind me of someone I used to know.”

“I do? Oh! Well, I hope that is a good thing!”

“It’s not a bad thing at all, nope!”

Conversation soon slows down to a comfortable silence after that and they sit for a while, enjoying the peaceful serenity of the cavern. Papyrus every so often enthrals him with stories of life on the surface, how big and bright and colorful it is, which of course Flowey is more than aware of, not that he lets Papyrus know that.

“I know you said you’d rather stay down here and I know you’re a little scared, but I hope that you will one day join us on the surface, Flowey, even if it’s just for a visit,” Papyrus says with his knees draw up and his arms pillowing his head on them, “You can’t blame yourself forever, you know, I’m sure that can’t be healthy.”

Flowey shrugs, “Well, gosh, let’s not be too pushy there, friend, one thing at a time please.”

“Ah, right, I’m sorry,” Papyrus tilts his head back, frowning and squinting at the opening, “Hm, wowie, it’s sunset already. I’m sorry, but I must start heading back, trying to climb down the mountain in the dark is a very difficult and dangerous task even for me!” He jumps to his feet, dusting the dirt, petals and pollen from his clothes and pulling his glove back on.

Flowey resists the urge to sigh or pout, he couldn’t expect Papyrus to stay here and entertain him forever after all. Still he can’t quite keep the disappointment out of his voice as he tilts his head upwards and quietly says “Hm, yeah, guess I’ll see you round.”

“Would you like to come with me, to where the Barrier was, I mean?” Papyrus asks as he finishes adjusting his scarf, “Company would be nice since I’ll have a long trek back and I don’t really feel like using all my energy for a jump right now.”

“Oh, uhh… sure, why not, I mean, uhh, it’s not like I’ve got anything better to do.”

Papyrus smiles – of course he does – and leans down with his arm outstretched, waiting as Flowey uproots himself and loops his vines around his forearm before straightening up. Given Papyrus’ almost obsessive need for everything to remain on schedule, Flowey expects them to begin moving straight away, so when Papyrus spends a little too long stretching his legs and shifting his weight from one to the other, it strikes Flowey as a little odd but nothing worth addressing. As it drags on, however, Flowey is beginning to get a little suspicious. The look on Papyrus’ face tells him that he is running some thought over in his head and the tiny flower’s main hope is that he’s not going to try to convince him to go with him beyond the mountain’s entrance.

So when Papyrus brings the arm that Flowey is perched on closer to himself and wraps the other arm around his tiny frame in a careful and somewhat awkward half-hug, Flowey is pretty much rendered speechless. He’s also about ninety-nine percent sure that the awkwardness isn’t just from his end. Huh, weird, he’d never taken the flamboyant and outgoing Papyrus as being an awkward hugger, though he should know better than anyone that Papyrus should never really be taken at face value. Still, despite the way his body reflexively tenses at the contact, Flowey can’t say he doesn’t at least _appreciate_ the gesture, especially given that it is becoming increasingly apparent that maybe Papyrus isn’t all too comfortable with physical contact either.

A moment later, the contact breaks and Papyrus moves his arm back, holding it up to accommodate his little passenger.

“You will now be able to witness how great I am at solving the puzzles of the Ruins, of which I had never even seen until today! Nyeh heh!” he says as they begin towards the exit, earning an eye roll from Flowey.

“Urghhh, my gosh, you used to be the biggest dork in the Underground, now you’re the biggest dork on the surface too!”

“How would you know, you’re not up there?”

“Drop it, dummy.”

Flowey still likes Papyrus, he’s still the most entertaining of all the Monsters formally trapped underground and even now he manages to catch Flowey off guard with some strange insight. Although Flowey doubts he’ll ever truly be able to understand Papyrus’ viewpoint, soulless as he is, he decides his disagreement isn’t worth losing the entertainment and company the skeleton brings.

It was clear that if Flowey wanted to keep true to his promise to become a better person, Papyrus was the clear Monster of choice to help keep him on the straight and narrow, he’d be Flowey’s first choice either way. No doubt progress would be slow, but after everything he’s been through, Flowey figures a change of pace would be welcomed. Even if he’s no longer Flowey nor Asriel, maybe he can find a middle ground between the two and that- that would be okay. It may not happen anytime too soon, but that was okay too, he had time to figure it out.

And, hey, who knows, maybe someday he’ll tell Papyrus his real name, that’s something a friend should know, isn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're finished (even though I wanted to have this done and uploaded last week) and it ended up being a lot longer than I expected! A huge thank you to everyone for reading, hopefully the ending was satisfactory since I kinda wanted an earn-your-happy-ending type thing to wrap up this little character arc.
> 
> If you have any questions or comments, please let me know either in the comments section or on my tumblr.
> 
> Thanks again for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say? I think their relationship is interesting.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> My Tumblr: https://xilluminax.tumblr.com


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